Thus It Was Written
by Arty Thrip - Alpha 04
Summary: A hundred years ago, a young girl sat listening to her mother on her deathbed. The mother spoke of a prophecy that was to change the course of history forever... Slightly AU
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Septimus Heap... If I did then things would be very different_

_**Author Note: Hello people... I'm tempted to ask whether you missed me, but I haven't written in so long that most of you probably don't know who I am... This story is a peculiar mix of things, and will probably taper out to be slightly... different than usual... I'm open for suggestions of pairings, so feel free to ask for one, however I may not write it, depends how it would fit into my plot (You see, I can do plots, I just can't do romances)... I don't know how often I'm gonna post new chapters, but the next one should be up before Christmas... I hope you like it ~ARTY~**

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Chapter 1

"A hundred years from now, my child, in the sly and smeary hours of one dark winter night, beneath a cold and starless sky decisions will be made. A prophecy was written to such a degree many, many moons ago by your great grandmother and your descendents will see the wrath which shall be released. The prophecy is not specific, it mentions not who, or what, or even exactly when, these decisions will take place, or who they shall effect. The one who shall make them has been prophesised about before, many times, and will be prophesised about again; such is his great power in the tiny smudge of his victorious history.

"The prophecy tells of a convening, a converging, of good and of evil within the Castle walls, Wizards with necromancers and necromancers with Wizards, but only one can prevail. The one the prophecy speaks of will be a boy, a boy of pure heart and uncanny magykal ability, who alone will settle the fates of all around him. His choice will be of life and of death, and for life to prevail death must come first.

"However, child, think no wrong of this boy, he is choosing between his family and his love, for each fall of opposite sides of the divide between good and evil and therefore only one may survive. Thus it is written and thus it must be."

The girl gazed at her mother in amazement. She was about thirteen, but she looked older. She had emerald green eyes, but no magyk. She was not one of the lucky ones. "One hundred years is too long for us, mother. There was never a way which we could live to see this great decision, this great divide. Why do you tell me of this? Am I to pass this to my children and they to pass it to theirs?"

"No, my child. As strange and unbelievable as the prophecy makes itself out to be, it will happen, but you, my child, are to be a part of it. You see, daughter, your destiny is as much entwined with the prophecy as that of this boy. Read on, my child…"

The girl apprehensively took up the scroll of paper and began to read aloud what was written upon it. Her eyes widened slowly. "From the wreckage of the failed alliance shall rise a new hope, a new people, a group of settlers who shall rebuild the dreams of those before them. The Castle shall be consumed with death and Hell shall descend upon those who dwell there. Magyk will destroy the souls of those around it and only those who do not have its power will be spared. Then, from the ashes of the once great city shall appear a saviour, a woman whose years exceed her appearance, who has never in her life experienced the horror or splendour of magyk, for though her body was chosen to wield it, magyk itself was rejected from her very soul by the tumultuous power within. This is the woman who will be chosen, and she alone shall have the power, to govern the lands for many more years after the failure of the alliance. Thus it was written and thus it must be."

"You see, child? It describes only you," the mother said in a hushed whisper. "There is no-one else who it could describe."

The girl shook, with tears and with anger and with fear, with conflicting emotions that held power over her weak soul. "I do not wish this to happen. I have seen the horror brought by magyk, therefore I cannot be the woman described. I shall have perished long before these events come to pass. I can only hope to pass the message to my children and that one of our descendents, mother, can fulfil the prophecy instead."

"There is but one the prophecy describes and you are she. You shall survive the next one hundred years without the use of magyk and you shall restore the fallen Castle to its former glory, as it is written in this text."

"Mother…" the girl began, but her words had died before they even left her mouth. "This is not possible…"

Her mother grinned, as ran her fingers through her daughter's copper-coloured hair. "Perhaps not in my lifetime, child. There is, you may know, a man still living here, the last Alchemist. Find this man and he will show you his secrets, do you understand, child? Only an Alchemist possesses the power to live eternally without the use of magyk and there is now but one practicing Alchemist alive. Find him."

"What of you, mother?"

"My time grows short. I can hear it in the wind that time has had its fun with me. The magyk within me is not a gift, it has brought me nothing but misery, and it is magyk that will, one day, destroy our great civilization. Be thankful that you are not cursed as I am."

Tears streaked the girl's face as she gazed at her mother, the weakened Wizard, again. "Don't leave me, mother," she breathed, masking her sobs.

"Child, it is written nowhere that the great and famous woman who saves the fallen might of the Castle has her mother in tow… My time has come, dear, let me go. Death is planned long in advance and we mortals cannot halt it, you understand. For thus it was written, child, and thus it must be…" the woman said, her voice growing weaker until virtually a whisper.

As a daughter watched death take her mother from her she let out a little cry of anguish. Her mother's last words still haunted her head as she sat in the still silence of the small room that she had learnt to call home. _'Thus it was written and thus it must be'_. Over and over, faster and faster, until she knew what she had to do, she knew where to turn. She would follow her mother's instructions to the very letters that had been scrawled on the parchment still clasped in the fingers of the dead Wizard. The girl took up the parchment carefully, so as not to disturb the body of her mother. The neighbours would find the body in due course. She hastily pulled on one of her mother's old Wizard robes and wrapped it tightly around herself; her green eyes making her seem every part a real Wizard.

She made her way to the river, where she gathered herself into a small boat and floated away downriver, fearful but excited of what she would find there. One sentence, however, echoed around her mind.

'Thus it was written and thus it must be'


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I never have and never will own Septimus Heap. Angie Sage does that just fine by herself**

**Author Note: This chapter took me longer than expected to write, I get easily distracted, you see... It is slightly peculiar, this chapter. And before I get reviews from a load of skeptics, I should point out that this is very alternative universe, that means that not everything that has happened in the books has happened in this story. Also, I can't remember how far Septimus was taken into the past in Physik, so I wrote it as a hundred years... I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I will write it as soon as I am able... Thanks to everyone who has read this so far, particularly those who reviewed me... Well, happy reading and happy Christmas everyone! ~ARTY~**

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Chapter 2

Marcellus Pye, the Last Alchemist, felt a presence looming behind him and couldn't tell what it was. He could tell almost every person who came to visit him these days, and there were not very many anymore.

He turned slowly, though he was not afraid, he was cautious of the suspicious figure behind him. The person he saw was wearing a thick cloak with a large hood against the cold and underneath he could see the glimmer of Ordinary Wizard robes, though the robes and the cloak seemed far too long for their wearer.

"Who are you?" he ventured.

The stranger tipped the hood back. It was a girl of little more than thirteen, Marcellus assumed, and she had small, searching green eyes. "You are Marcellus Pye, the Last Alchemist?" the girl asked.

"I am. Who are you, child?"

"It is not for you to call me child," she retorted indignantly. "You have a potion that gives eternal youth, do you not?"

"I do. However I fail to see what it should help you to do. Now please, tell me your name."

"My name is not important. It was written in a great prophecy that I should be alive in a hundred years without the use of magyk, and thus I have come to you. I know that you possess this potion, and that you also possess a Glass, that allows one to travel through time and space."

"The Glass is broken."

"Well, then it shall have to be the potion, won't it?"

"I cannot give it to you. It is far too powerful for a child of your age. This prophecy you speak of, how can you be sure that this entails you to come here to me? A hundred years is a long time."

The suspicious girl reached into her cloak and pulled something out of it. The object in her hand glittered in the dim light and Marcellus knew it was a knife. He stepped back defensively.

"I suggest you give me the potion," the girl repeated forcefully, turning the knife over in her hand. "This knife I have here is very sharp; I would hate to have to use it."

"Surely you are too young to commit such a heinous crime as murder. Anyway, if you were to kill me, you would not receive the potion."

"If I were to kill you, then I would turn this room upside-down until I was to find the potion and then I would take this potion and the prophecy would be satisfied. There is no writing in the prophecy as to whether I kill you or not."

"Which prophecy is this?"

"That is not important."

"Who wrote it?" Marcellus persisted.

"How am I to know that, you fool?"

"Who told you of this prophecy?"

"My mother," the girl admitted, stepping forward hastily and raising the knife in a menacing way.

Marcellus knew that she wouldn't hesitate to use it; he could see the flair in her eyes. He daren't let the fear show in his face as he continued to find out things about this strange girl. "Who is your mother?"

The girl was tall for her age, and stronger than she seemed, within seconds she had Marcellus pinned against the wall, the sharp blade to his throat. "My mother is of no importance. Besides, it wouldn't matter, she's dead. Tell me where the potion is, if you value your life that is."

Marcellus felt the knife nick into his neck and the warm trickle of his blood issued over his chest. It was near impossible to hide his fear now. "I'll show you where the potion is, if you tell me the subject of the prophecy."

"And if I refuse?" the girl asked pugnaciously, knowing she held the upper hand over him.

"Then you will never find the potion. You think that I would leave something as precious as that lying around for anyone to see or to steal? There is little choice for you, child. Tell me what it is that is written in this prophecy or lose your only opportunity to retrieve the potion for eternal youth forever."

The girl considered this. "A hundred years hence a decision will be made between family and love. It will spark a terrible war between good and evil and many people in the Castle will die. Magyk is the cause, magyk will kill them all. Magyk is a force only for evil. Magyk killed my mother. From the Hell of the Castle a new life shall be born for the people, after all the magyk is gone and I shall govern them."

"You do not have magyk then?" Marcellus asked. Everything she had just said was trying to slot into place in his mind unsuccessfully. He had forgotten about the knife, the blood from his wound was dry now.

"That is the reason that the prophecy can only describe me."

The Alchemist was confused. "Not all prophecies come true. Not all prophecies are written by people who have the power to foresee the future; they are merely ramblings of an unstable mind..."

"How dare you insult my mother?" The girl said, pushing Marcellus harder into the wall. "You would be dead if I didn't need you!"

"Your mother wrote the prophecy?"

"I don't know. But my mother believes it to be true and I trust her a thousand times more than I trust you, Alchemist. Thus it was written in that prophecy and thus it must be! Show me the potion and pray I don't kill you anyway!"

"Killing me will not win you favour with the people of the Castle in future. After so much violence, if what is written comes true, they will not want somebody who governs by fear. I have a proposal for you: stay with me here in the Castle and I will give you the potion. You will be fed and I can even teach you the methods of Physik if you wish it. I can see that you are new to the Castle, I will teach you the ways, for a true leader of the people needs experience of the area in their jurisdiction."

"I have no wish to be apprenticed to an Alchemist. However I suppose what you say is true, I do need to spend time in the Castle. The fact of the matter is that I have one hundred years in which to familiarise myself to the layout and the people of the Castle..."

"At least stay here," Marcellus begged. He didn't want to see the girl out on the streets alone. "It's a dangerous world and, though you can easily overpower me it seems, it will not be the case out there."

"This does not mean I trust you."

"Naturally," admitted the Alchemist. "Do we have an agreement?"

The girl let Marcellus back to the floor and stowed the knife away inside her mother's robes. "As long as what is written comes true, it doesn't matter what comes to pass in the meantime."

Marcellus' hand strayed to his throat and he winced with pain. His hand was covered in blood. "Well, if you are to stay here then I shall have to know your name."

"Emmie Wright," the girl replied quickly. "My name is short for Emerald. I was so named for the ridiculous colour of my eyes denoting magykal ability, of which my body is absent. The potion?"

"You are too young to ingest such a potion at your age. I swear upon my life that you shall take this potion as soon as you come of age. Besides, I am sure the potion speaks of a woman rather than a child. The people in this Castle be it now, or in a hundred years time, would never accept the leadership of a young child..."


End file.
